


Misgivings of the Butterfly Effect

by inspiredinfj



Category: Ever After High, Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Aged up characters, F/F, Modern AU, Multi, Until Dawn AU, frequent changes in perspective, scary monsters and atmosphere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8438248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspiredinfj/pseuds/inspiredinfj
Summary: but·ter·fly ef·fect: (with reference to chaos theory) the phenomenon whereby a minute localized change in a complex system can have large effects elsewhere





	

Darling stepped off the bus to the crunch of snow underfoot. She was greeted by a gust of mountain air to her face and a chill that seeped through her layers. Behind her, the bus pulled away with a shudder, leaving her at the entryway, alone, in the dark. She looked up, squinted past the haze that wrapped its way around the wooden beams, and found the sign that read _Blackwood Pines_. Darling shivered, but not because of the subzero temperatures or the isolation of Mount Queen. It was the fear, the anger that waited for her return to the location of last year’s tragedy.

Darling drew a heavy breath and squared her shoulders, just as she’d done many times before in the past year. No, she was insistent that feelings of the past were meant to stay in the past, where they couldn’t ruin things for her. Not her weekend, not her friendships, and certainly not her life. If not for herself, then at least for Raven.

Darling recalled the video Raven had shared with their group of eight just a few weeks ago. She invited everyone back to the annual Blackwood Winter Getaway in the impromptu video, a crooked smile on her face. She was excited, telling everyone how much she was looking forward to seeing them all again, and she had her trademark sense of unfortunately inappropriate humor about her, but Darling worried. There was a fidgeting habit that Raven used to not have, an anxiousness in her once cocky demeanor. Beneath the jokes, Darling couldn’t help but wonder if Raven was all there.

Despite herself, she chuckled, but it was a dry sort of laugh. She knew exactly what Raven would say to her if she knew what she was thinking now.

“Relax. You don’t have to be so tense all the time,” she would say. Then, with an arm slung around Darling’s shoulders, she’d add, “I know just the thing you need to take your mind off things. Me, you, and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. What d’ya say?”

Yeah. For Raven.

Darling pushed on the gate, no taller than hip-height and blanketed in a thin layer of snow. Brushing the frost from her gloves, she peered into the dense, sprawling woods around her, nothing but the sound of a cold wind sweeping through the dips and lurches of the landscape. She started to walk the familiar pathway to the cable car station when an eerie feeling, heavy as dread, fell over her. It was as if someone were watching her from the trees. The feeling made her skin crawl.

“Hello? Is someone there?” she called, and immediately felt ridiculous for it. Of course no one was there. The nearest town was more than thirty miles away.

Darling shook her head and continued to trudge down the path, a little bit faster now. _Strange_ , she thought, and decided the feeling must have come from being alone in Blackwood Pines. It really could be a terrible place, lonely and wild, if she stopped to think about it for too long.

She couldn’t help but feel relief when the path opened up, narrow trail giving way to the station’s clearing. Darling walked to the benches that lined the station’s front and loosened her grip on her backpack’s straps, unaware that she had even been crushing them until she felt the sting in her knuckles.

She shook her hands out and blew hot air into them, slightly embarrassed by her tenseness. Glancing around, she realized Dexter was nowhere to be found. Odd, since he'd told her to meet him there and he was usually good for his word.

She dipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone to check his texts when she heard a buzzing noise from beside her. There, on a bench beneath the station’s milky light, was Dexter’s leather bag, his vibrating phone peeking out of one of its pockets.

Darling bit her lip, hesitating, then reached down to take the phone. Immediately noticing Apple’s name above a new text alert, Darling pressed her lips together. A small voice in her head worried her, nagged her with thoughts that something could be going on between them, but she had no idea why it would bother her.

A hand touched Darling’s shoulder and she nearly dropped the phone. “She’s been here less than one minute and my little sister is already snooping through my stuff. That’s a record, I think.”

Darling spun around to face her twin brother. A fleeting blush colored her cheeks as she stuttered out some excuse about it buzzing. Pathetic, even to her own ears. She never was any good at lying.

Dexter snatched his phone from her outstretched hand and, with his back to Darling, checked the message before cramming the phone into his pocket. He turned around, this time looking her over more thoroughly and even adjusting his black-framed glasses to make sure he was seeing her right.

“Your hair,” he said, and Darling’s fingers instantly flew to the side of her hair, tugging at the chin-length, white-blonde pieces there. The other side just tumbled over her shoulder in loose, natural waves. “Mom and Dad are going to kill you for cutting it like that.”

Darling caught herself tugging and shoved her hands into her leather jacket. “Yeah, well, I figured we’re adults now and we have our own lives at college. I’m not too concerned with what Mom and Dad think about my life choices anymore.”

“I-I kind of like it.”

Darling looked up, surprised. Seeing her brother’s sheepish expression, she let her shoulders drop and gave him a small smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s cool. You’ve got this whole badass thing going for you. I like it.” Dexter caught her eyes to return the smile, then shifted his weight. “S-So. You’ll never guess what I found,” he said, brightening. He swung his bag over his shoulder and motioned for her to follow. “I have to show you this.”

Darling lifted a brow and followed Dexter around the side of the station to the back, the crunch of two sets of feet in the snow a comfort to her now.

“Ta-da!” he chimed. Dexter spread his arms in a grand gesture, a booth of guns and some makeshift targets behind him. “Pretty rad, right?”

“Rad? Why is this even here?”

“What do you mean?”

“What the hell is a shooting range doing at the base of a ski lodge?”

Dexter furrowed his brows at her. “Dude, have you met Raven’s mom? She’s crazy paranoid. Thinks someone’s gonna break into the lodge, all the way up here. As if she couldn’t scare them away with that nasty scowl she’s always got,” he muttered, deft fingers working over the rifle. “Wanna try?”

Darling hesitated, thought back to childhood and the way their father pushed Dexter to learn how to shoot a gun and repair the classic cars he kept in the two-story garage. Anything he deemed “something a man should know,” or so he would always say, coarse hands grooming the gray of his mustache. Dexter never particularly liked any of the activities, but he became decent at them all out of the incessant practice, and Darling wasn’t fond of her disadvantage or the spiteful way it made her feel towards Dexter. She knew it wasn’t his fault and he meant well in wanting to spend time with her now. She did miss him while they were away at separate colleges for the past three months. She just wasn’t in the mood to be reminded of the things Dexter was praised for learning while she was brushed off for wanting to try them.

Darling managed a tight grin. “Hard pass. But I’d love to watch you miss.”

Dexter scoffed before picking up and shouldering the rifle. Darling waited, watchful, as he took his time to line up the shot. Just when she thought he wasn’t going to follow through, the gun fired and a glass bottle shattered from twenty yards away. Rapidly now, a few more bottles burst at varying distances.

“ _Wow._ ” She mock-swooned.

“Uh-huh. I’m bad! I’m a badass!” he sang.

Darling watched the rifle swing in his hold as he danced — if you could even call what we was doing with his arms dancing — and pushed her hands out to stop him. “Okay, okay!” she agreed around a mouthful of laughter. “Just don’t hit me with that thing.”

“Please. Darling. I know what I’m doing.” He made a show of mishandling the gun before seriously lining up another shot.

After a while, Darling slouched against the booth, mindlessly watching the target bags rock with the impact. The drop in conversation allowed her thoughts the time to wander and, unfortunately for her, they wandered straight back to where she was.

“It must be hard on Raven,” Darling said, wistful. “Being here again, I mean.”

Dexter gave her a sidelong glance before shrugging against the gun. “I guess. I don’t know how she keeps it all together sometimes. I’d be a wreck if I was the one who… Well, you know.”

“I’m not so sure she _is_ keeping it together. She seems different, like she’s struggling. Maybe I’m wrong. I hope I am… But I think we’re just going to have to keep an eye on her this weekend.” Darling let her eyes drift across the range to the gnarled tree at its center. “We both know, if she really needed it, she’s not the kind of person to ask for help.”

Dexter grunted in agreement while leveling the gun. He was being thoughtful, _and avoidant_ , Darling told herself, though she couldn’t say she blamed him. Her brother was a good guy and a great friend to Raven, but he never did know how to handle her once she needed the support and comfort that accompanied her feelings of grief. But that’s what she was there for, she supposed, what she had been there for all summer, when Raven would call in the middle of the night just to hear the sound of Darling’s voice and not feel so alone in a newly quiet house.

Looking up, the dull glint of the cable car moving down the line caught Darling’s eye. “Hey, looks like our ride is here.”

“Aw, but I’ve only got one more shot,” he complained with a toss of his gun in the direction of the remaining bottle. “Hold on, hold on. Let me just…”

Darling shoved his arm and had to force down a small laugh when he fell back a step, disgruntlement written all over his face. “C’mon, Dex! The cable car,” she called out, walking backwards around the side of the station. Darling shook her head when she heard Dexter whine. “Of course _you_ would complain about having to leave the range when everyone is waiting for us at the lodge. At least one of us is excited about seeing everyone. It’s not like the whole gang hasn’t been together in a yea—” Darling’s breath caught in her throat.

“Darling? What’s the matter?” Dexter came jogging up behind her, nearly knocking her over in his haste. When he realized what she was looking at, he grimaced.

“What is that?”

“It was like that when I got here,” he said, walking over to the vandalized map post. The words 'The past is beyond our control' were splashed over a map of Blackwood Pines. Glaring, crimson paint ran down the front in streaks, the letters smeared at the edges by what appeared to be fingers. “Raven did say they were having trouble with people sleeping in the station. They have to keep things locked up now. That’s why she had to give me a key. Maybe… maybe those people were the ones who left this.”

“They must have been pretty angry to write something like that. It’s creepy,” she muttered past grim lips. “It looks like blood.”

“You know the people around here. They’re backwards,” he said. “Why live out in the middle of nowhere? And did you _see_ that wanted poster for the arsonist on the station? It's like they've got nothing better to do than shit like this.” He scoffed, already moving to the station’s door with a key in hand.

“Weird,” she said to herself. Darling gave the sign a final once-over before heading into the station behind Dexter.

Inside, old snowboards and skis rested against the cluttered walls. Some papers littered the desk and a monitor projected a static-filled image of surveillance footage from around the property, its sterile light filling the small space. The only other light in the station was a desk-lamp that flickered whenever Darling’s boots hit the floorboards a little too hard.

Darling passed through the station and headed out to the deck, where the cable car would dock. She put her hands to the railing, the steel cold beneath her fingerless gloves, and leaned over to get a better look. The cable car was only a spec in the distance. At this rate, it would take another five minutes before it got to them.

“Huh. I swore it was a lot closer.”

“Guess I really could have shot that last bottle. Maybe I should go back—”

“How about you stay close?” The words fell out of her mouth a little too forcefully.

Dexter paused in the station. He would have told her it was only a joke if he hadn’t noticed the weight of worry in his sister’s slate-blue eyes.

“Sure...” He held her gaze until she turned back around to peer into the dark. “I’ll just entertain myself with whatever’s in here,” he said under his breath. “Equipment rental forms are a page-turner, right?”

Dexter moved around the station. The first thing he noticed was a tired poster that took up most of one wall. It was something that caught his attention every year he was in the station. After all, the thing was too creepy not to notice with its yellowed paper and scrawl mentioning Blackwood Pines’ old occupancy as a hotel and sanatorium. Leave it to the Queen's to buy a place like that. He remembered Raven saying none of the locals would buy the land with its history, but her dad had jumped at the opportunity. Something about inspiration for his next franchise. It had always seemed crazy to him to spend the kind of money they did "for inspiration," but they definitely had that extra million or two lying around for it.

Dragging his fingers across the papers on the desk, he moved down and shuffled some of them. They didn’t seem to be in any sort of order for it to matter anyway. Hell, they didn’t seem to have been touched in about a year, which, he realized with a sinking feeling in his gut, they probably weren’t.

“Not messing things up too badly, are you?” Darling called without looking, still folded over the railing.

Guilty, Dexter fumbled and accidentally swiped some of the papers onto the floor. He made a frantic expression before diving to pick them up and, suddenly, he was thirteen again and Darling had just uncovered his Playboys. “No, no, of course not!” He laughed wildly and shoved them back onto the desk. That was when he noticed the monitor.

He must have made a sound because Darling turned around this time.

“What?” She was clearly on edge, her voice higher than before.

“Nothing,” he assured, pushing back dark, gelled hair with a quick hand before readjusting his beanie. “I thought I saw something on the monitor, but that’s not… It was probably just some static.”

Darling frowned, unconvinced, but otherwise let it go when she saw the cable car pulling into the station. “Let’s get moving. Car’s here.”

Dexter glanced at the empty monitor before he followed Darling into the car. She seemed to be pretty wound already and, besides, he didn’t know what he saw, so he figured it was the right thing to do when he kept quiet about the figure standing outside the station.

“Alright, here we go,” Darling said as the car kicked into motion.

“The adventure begins.” He dramatically wiggled his fingers at her and, despite the way she brushed him off, he grinned.

Darling leaned into the frosted windows, her breath dense against their glass. From here, she could see everything, from the snow-covered pines that passed below to the black mountains that seemed to drift in the distance.

“I hope this was the right thing to do,” she finally said. Her voice cut the quiet, only accompanied by the sound of the wind beating against the car.

“What?”

“You know, getting everyone together on the anniversary.” She shrugged. “Raven seemed pretty excited about the whole thing, so it couldn’t be all bad, but still.”

“No, she definitely was,” he agreed while peering out the window. “I haven’t seen her so pumped about anything in a long time.”

“Good, good.” Darling’s voice drifted, her words hanging in the air for a moment. “Because it’s kind of hard to tell with her sometimes and I… I’ve kinda been worried.”

“It was a good idea.”

She smiled and waited, evidently for something that wasn’t coming. “I hope everyone else feels the same way.”

“We’re all here, aren’t we?”

Darling rolled her eyes, then lightly punched him on the arm. “Thanks, bro. Good talk,” she said, voice keen with sarcasm.

“Ow, okay, I get it! Let’s talk,” he said, slapping his palms on his jeans. He leaned forward in mock-attentiveness, resting his chin on his knuckles as if he were ready for some slumber party-level gossip.

Darling only glared at him.

He chuckled at her response and leaned back on the bench, throwing his arm around its back in nonchalance. “Did I ever tell you about how I met Raven?”

“No…” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

“Well, it was third grade. I sat in the front of the room, Raven sat in the back. We didn’t even know each other existed until this kid next to Raven started strap-snapping the training bra of the girl in front of him.”

Darling’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Okay, so?”

“ _So_ Raven punched the kid in the jaw, which was fucking hilarious by the way, but that’s not the point.”

“Of course.” Darling fought a small grin, unable to hide her fondness for Raven and her questionable sense of justice, even at age nine. She may not have always agreed with Raven’s actions, but she could admit, she'd always admired her for her integrity and heart.

“Point is, the teacher wanted to keep an eye on Raven, so she got moved to the front, next to me. That’s how we met and became friends, to this day. Just imagine, if that never happened, I never would’ve met Raven a-and I never would’ve introduced you two. Who knows if the rest of the group would’ve even been friends without us? Isn’t that insane to think about? Now that’s what I call the Butterfly Effect.”

Darling was silent while she sorted through the possibilities, then gave up when the thought became too overwhelming. To think, never meeting Raven. Her life would definitely be different.

“Can I ask you something?” Darling said.

“As long as it doesn’t involve making fun of _someone_ ,” he said, facetiously tugging his shirt collar, “for the incident with the grapes. We were kids, okay? I know she doesn’t look it — well, okay, she does — but Raven can be conniving. Downright evil, when she puts her mind to it.”

“You’ve been best friends with Raven all this time.” Darling treaded lightly, watching for his nod. “Haven’t you ever considered, I don’t know, dating her?”

A look of genuine surprise crossed his face, then humor, as if the thought itself were too absurd to imagine seriously. “No. Have you?”

Darling’s eyes widened. She jerked her head, suddenly very interested in the scenery beyond the window. “Don’t be a dick, Dex. It was just a question,” she mumbled.

Dexter smirked, but his smile faded the longer he stared at the back of Darling’s blonde head. He watched the way her hands wrung together in her lap and wondered if it could be possible. If his little sister really could have a thing for his best friend.

In a moment of realization, he turned to look out his own window, flustered, and that was the end of the conversation.

 

* * *

 

Lizzie startled at the sound of the cable car, its metal gears screeching as it pulled into the upper station, and moved to grab the envelope beside her on the bench. She stood, her fingers making quick work of preening the crafted waves beneath her knit hat. Taking a steadying breath, she walked around to the station’s door.

Something hard hit the door, making Lizzie jump back and perch on her toes with a curse.

“Elizabeth!” Darling yelled from the other side. Her breath fogged the glass between them. “Hey! The door’s stuck. Let us in?”

Lizzie inwardly sighed before hitting the button to unlock the door. The pair of siblings shuffled out behind her until all three of them were standing beneath the station’s stark light. Snowflakes were already catching in Lizzie’s hair, bleached and colored to a rich brown, after a moment in the open.

Lizzie paused. “You look different,” she noted blankly.

She eyed Darling, who seemed to have chopped off her silver curls and traded her collared, pastel shirts for leather since she saw her last. It was definitely a harder look, Lizzie decided, one Darling wore quite well despite the bashful way she still acted, rubbing her arm.

“You look _good_ ,” Lizzie amended. “Like yourself. Did you know people always look their best when they’re wearing what makes them most comfortable?” Without questioning herself, the student-designer ran her hand over the leather. Fake, but still well-made and hand-stitched. Probably Italian too. She didn’t expect anything less of the strict vegan.

Lizzie heard Dexter’s distinctly disgusted groan before she felt the envelope being pulled from her hand. She rolled her eyes at him when it became apparent he only took the letter to draw her attention from his sister.

“My goodness,” Dexter said, sounding scandalized. “What do we have here? Seems someone’s been trading love letters with another among the group.”

“Dexter,” Darling warned.

“Or perhaps it’s smut? I do wonder what kind of dirty scenarios our pure, little Elizabeth is capable of imagining…” He pretended to unseal the letter.

Lizzie’s lips twitched, though the next words that came out of her mouth were remarkably level. “Whatever I wrote is between me and them, Charming. In other words, it’s none of your goddamn business.” At that, she snatched the letter back before he could lift it above her head.

“Whatever,” he said, suddenly looking bored. “Let’s get up to the lodge already. I’m getting tired of all this nature and junk.”

“You go ahead.” Lizzie nodded towards the trailhead’s direction from over her shoulder, already turning back to her seat on the bench. “I’m waiting here. See who else shows up.”

“You mean Daring?” Dexter said under his breath, words half-sharp and half-sung at the mention of his older sibling.

Lizzie narrowed her dark eyes. “Or whoever.”

Dexter stood at the trailhead making nauseated faces behind Lizzie’s back. “Darling, you comin’?”

“Yeah, in a minute,” she called, having drifted away from the argument and instead found herself drawn to the mountain’s edge. She lifted her arms and inhaled deeply, as if to breathe in the infinite mountain ranges. “I guess I forgot how amazing this place can be. Does this view take your breath away or what?”

Dexter pulled hard at the shoulder strap of his bag. “Or what,” he grumbled, and started up the wooded trail.

 

* * *

 

“Ugh! You’d think the Queen’s could have afforded something to take us from the station to the lodge. Didn’t Raven’s dad make like fifty million off that last movie? _Blood, Gore, and More Gore_ or whatever?” Duchess growled, words thick with annoyance.

Cerise closed the gate behind her girlfriend and steeled herself to pick up both Duchess’ and her luggage, one bag three times the size of the other and embroidered with a purple “D”. The shorter girl tossed her hair over her shoulder, earth-brown hair falling against her lower back in a sleek braid, and bared her teeth as she lifted the bags. She followed behind Duchess, already ten paces ahead of her, towards a covered bridge dusted in snow.

“I don’t think that’s how that works, Duch,” Cerise said in a naturally placid tone. “I think that was the gross income of the whole thing and they still have to pay the—”

“And where’s a bellboy when you need him?”

Cerise sighed, then pressed her lips into silence. Duchess was obviously in another one of her bad moods, which admittedly all seemed to bleed together into one, terrible attitude as of lately, and Cerise knew better. At least, she knew well enough that the best thing to do was to agree with Duchess, or stay out of her way entirely. She definitely didn’t want a repeat of earlier, when Duchess snapped at her for missing one of the connector trains to Blackwood Pines, despite another arriving minutes later.

Rule number one about being with Duchess: She’s always right.

“I’m getting chills,” Duchess said, gentler, as she rubbed at her arms.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon.”

“No, I mean, it’s weird being here again after… Seeing everyone again, it’s not gonna be easy.”

Cerise watched Duchess’ slender figure slip into the shadows of the covered bridge. Suddenly, she looked a lot smaller to her, more vulnerable. It was moments like these that made Cerise want to brush back her black hair and tell her things would be alright, _everyone_ would be alright, even when they both knew it wasn’t true. The gaping absence in their group spoke louder to that than anything.

“Duchess,” Cerise started, only to be promptly thrown when something jumped onto the path in front of them with a scream. No, not something. _Someone_.

Cerise dropped the luggage and pulled back Duchess by her waist in one, fluid exchange. Signals of alarm skittered across her brain and then halted, fingers relaxing around the quilted fabric of Duchess’ coat when she recognized the person as Daring.

The Dior-wearing nineteen-year-old keeled over in laughter, hands braced against his knees.

“Jesus Christ, Daring!” Duchess bit. She angrily strained against Cerise’s hands as if ready to claw Daring’s pretty face, which, with their history, Cerise wouldn’t put it past her. “You _jerk_.”

“Hey, hey. No need for name-calling. We’re all friends here.” His brows drew together as if his feelings had been hurt, but the expression was there and gone, easily replaced by a familiar grin that spanned his face. All teeth, the smile reminded Cerise a lot of a wolf’s, only there to distract you from the fact that he was misleading you from the path.

“Friends, _right_ ,” Duchess drawled. “As if I’d ever lower myself to being your friend.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Duch! I thought we already cleared the air after that little misunderstanding with _Lizzie_.”

Ouch. Even Cerise noticed the way he dragged Lizzie’s name through his mouth, like it was caught on his teeth. He wanted Duchess to know Lizzie was his now and, noticeable flush of anger rising under her skin, Duchess definitely got the message.

Sensing the surge of tension, Cerise knew to step in. She gently squeezed Duchess’ waist as if to say _don’t rise to the bait_ and, by some miracle, she listened.

“Hey, what happened between us four was really hard on the whole group,” Cerise began in the smoothest voice she could manage, “but we don’t have to let that ruin things for all of us, especially not this weekend, alright?”

Daring threw out his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Whatever you say.”

“So we’re good here?”

“We’re good.”

Duchess crossed her arms over her chest, but made no move to protest. _Thank God_ , Cerise thought.

“Cool. I’m heading back down to the cable car station. Got someone to see.”

Daring gestured a finger-gun as he strode past them. Only it wasn’t until he was far out of sight and the pair continued down the path, bags in hand, that Cerise was finally able to breathe.

 

* * *

 

Time moved slower in Blackwood Pines. At least it felt like it did to Lizzie, still slouched in her seat on the station’s bench. Her eyes, long since clouded over from boredom, distantly focused on the forest beyond the station’s shelter. After a time, the haze of her mind shifted into something of a trance, one where the forest itself felt encroaching, as if somehow drifting closer, and its wind-stirred branches scratched against the station’s tin roof like nails to a rhythm. It wasn’t until a stray crow, squawking in frenzied alarm, threw her out of the trance that she realized how enthralled she'd been.

Lizzie watched the crow dip its inky wings, feathers cutting the air and sending it falling over the cliff’s edge. Its descent was silent, the bird only ever crying when it passed directly in front of her, and it briefly made her wonder what had startled it. Feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise, she waved the feeling away and pulled out her phone.

The device was a welcome distraction that quickly took her into her photo gallery. Before long, she was thumbing past an album a year old to date. Hesitant, she scrolled back and tapped on it. The album started off like all the rest, with striking photos of scenery, of snow-lined mountains and unkempt trails, but it wasn’t long before some familiar faces showed up.

It started with a photo of Dexter and Darling standing in the lodge kitchen. He was giving the camera an awkward thumbs-up while she leaned into him and beamed, all white teeth and effortlessly perfect curls. Then came a photo of Apple smiling meekly into the camera. Her pale hair was tied back in a neat ribbon and her fingers were wrapped around the only mug of non-alcoholic hot chocolate from that night. Then there were a few, blurred photos of Lizzie trying to grab the phone.

At that point, she distinctly recalled a tipsy Raven pulling the phone from her hold and running around with it. Gently buzzed from her own hot chocolate, Lizzie quickly lost interest in chasing the other girl and let it go. Raven, on the other hand, didn’t tire until several dozen photos later, all of them slightly blurred and directed at their friends. One of Daring flexing on top of the kitchen island, his mouth captured in a laugh. Another of a flush-faced Cerise linking arms with Darling.

Lizzie was flicking through the photos with a smirk when her breath caught. She stopped, staring at a photo of Duchess and herself leaned back against the loft couch together. Lizzie’s eyes were closed, her forehead to Duchess’, and the other’s fingers were pressed into her thigh. Cautiously, Lizzie scrolled to the next photo, which showed the second Duchess’ eyes caught Raven’s. The following photo was nothing but a dash of long, ebony hair. Lizzie could still hear Duchess screaming “Give me that, you perv!”

Lizzie’s hand settled on the white envelope beside her on the bench and lingered.

The smash of a something hitting the station’s wall near her head made her yelp. Her eyes were instantly drawn across the station's clearing to a grinning Daring, now swaggering towards her with some loose snow in hand.

“I’m here for my queen! And I’m prepared to fight for her.” He nobly lifted a fist over his chest as if he were a proud knight sworn to battle.

Lizzie glanced at the envelope from the corner of her eye. She swiftly tucked it into her back pocket when Daring was bent over to gather more ammunition.

“How charming,” she deadpanned, only the hint of a smile on the edge of her lips. She innocently folded her hands behind her back as she walked the length of the station’s porch. “Is that really how you plan to woo me?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

She lifted her shoulders halfheartedly. “Oh, I’m afraid this queen is willing to put up a fight for _herself_ —”

Reaching the end of the porch, Lizzie grabbed a clump of snow from the railing and ran. Before Daring could look up, she threw it as hard as she could, snow bursting on impact with his shoulder. She barely registered Daring’s yells of protest as she slid behind the protective cover of a picnic table.

“ _Oh_! I see how it is,” he hollered. “This is war, then. My kingdom against yours, Queen Lizzie.”

Lizzie giggled, tightly packing a snowball between both hands. The next time she peeked around the table, however, he was gone. She looked for Daring cautiously, then caught sight of him sneaking a look at her from behind a tree. Making eye-contact, Lizzie jumped from behind the table and ran to the next place of cover, flinging another snowball at him as she went.

Despite his maneuvering, the snowball met his face with a blast of hard snow, and Lizzie ducked his returning snowball.

She gathered another ball and then tossed it up as she looked around for him. Hearing his throaty chuckle from her right, she turned and caught him running towards another tree. She fired, again pelting him, this time squarely in the back of the head.

Daring’s hands flew to the place she struck. “Alright, alright! You got me,” he admitted. “But this isn’t over yet!”

“O-ho, I think it is,” Lizzie yelled from behind a tree stump, readying another snowball. “I know all your tricks, Daring, and I’m not falling for any of ’em.” Pieces of her hair fell in front of her face, the strands fluttering from her hitched breath.

“You sure about that?” he returned mischievously, his voice sounding distant.

With her back against the rough bark of the tree, she glanced over her shoulder. She found him hiding behind another tree, his broad, muscled frame barely concealed by the tree’s meager width. Lizzie rolled her eyes. Too easy.

Tempting him out of hiding, she ran from behind her own cover. Just before she reached a stack of split wood, she struck him again before he could hit her.

“Face it! You’re never gonna catch me,” she taunted loudly.

She moved again, this time passing behind an entire grove of trees. And okay maybe it was a little cocky of her because, the next thing she knew, she was tumbling in the snow with Daring.

By the time she recovered, he already had her arms pinned above her head as he straddled her hips in the snow. The space between them was slight, their breath curling together in the air, frigid but now growing hot. A wave of expensive cologne met Lizzie’s nose, making her sigh, and it was as if his entire body reacted to that sigh. His eyes dipped and settled on her dark, parted lips, and Lizzie could see, could _feel_ exactly where things were heading.

“Alright,” she said suddenly, and his eyes snapped to hers. “You win.”

“Oh yeah? What’s my prize?” he hummed, voice gruff.

Lizzie tugged a wrist free from under his conceding hold. She ran her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Come ’ere and get it,” she tempted, pulling him close.

He obliged without hesitation, drawing close enough for her to feel his breath. Lizzie watched his eyes slip closed and only smiled, soft lips curling. The next thing she knew, Daring was throwing himself back with a curse and wiping snow from his eyes.

Lizzie climbed to her feet with a low laugh. “Nobody beats the queen in a snowball fight,” she sneered, hand on hip. “Nobody.”

Still kneeling in the snow, Daring rubbed the remaining slush from his flushed cheeks. “C’mon, Lizzie! That wasn’t fair,” he said, and Lizzie had the feeling he wasn’t just talking about the snowball fight.

She crooned darkly. “Aw, come on now, champ. Walk it off.” Lizzie slapped his back spiritedly. She tried not to laugh at the awkward shift of his legs. Not to say she tried very hard.

“You’re a cruel woman, Elizabeth Hearts.”

“Yeah, I know.” The next time he looked up, she was there in front of him, a rose-red fingernail lifting his chin. “But did you really think you could win my heart so easily? I think I’m worth a little more than that… Maybe you just need a reminder.”

She smirked, turning away. As she did, she dragged her nail up and against the grain of his day-old shave. When she reached the furthest point of his chin, she flicked it higher as if to say _watch me_. Lizzie turned and walked away, cotton-hugged hips swaying with each step. She didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. She knew exactly where his eyes would be drawn to. It wasn’t until much later, however, that she stopped to wonder whether he could see the outline of the envelope in her back pocket. She wondered what he would say, if only he knew.


End file.
